The Empty Space
by thescissoring
Summary: At five years old, the concept of death is a hard one to understand. C.C. finds a crying little boy in need of some affection and assurance. This is a tender moment between Brighton and C.C. set just after Sara's death.


C.C. carried a pile of scripts through the living room on her way to the kitchen, pausing by the powder room door when she heard crying coming from inside.

_It must be one of the children_, she thought, debating on whether or not to check.

It had been three months since Sara had passed away, and she had silently stepped in to help Niles make arrangements for the children. She had gone shopping for summer clothes (after getting their sizes from Niles of course. There was no way she was taking three children into a department store by herself) and planned a few fun activities here and there under the guise of getting them out of the house so she and Maxwell could work, but really she knew they needed some distraction and laughter. The children didn't know she had done all of that, though.

So she stood awkwardly outside of the door now, unsure of what to do. Talking to the children had never been a strong suit of hers, at least not when Sara wasn't around, and she wasn't exactly an expert when it came to being comforting. Then she heard a wheezy sob, and felt a sharp pang in her heart. Sara had been her best friend. She knew if the roles were reversed what Sara would do.

C.C. placed the scripts on the table in the hallway and hesitated for a moment before knocking on the door. She heard a gasp and the crying stopped abruptly; she must have scared the child.

"Um… It's C.C. Are you alright in there?" The attempted tenderness in her voice sounded strange to her.

After a few moments the door opened, revealing a pink faced, tear stained Brighton. He looked up at her with wide eyes.

"Are you alright?" She asked again, her voice softer this time. She was secretly relieved that it was Brighton. She had always found it easier to relate to him than to the girls. He loved dinosaurs and cars and animals; she found it easy and almost fun to listen to him tell her about his favorites. His face crumpled and he ran forward, throwing his arms around C.C.'s waist and burying his face in her Chanel suit. He began to cry again, and she briefly cringed at the idea of tears and snot staining her expensive clothes. But her heart broke for him when he finally spoke, worries of her clothes quickly forgotten.

"I miss mommy."

C.C. knelt so she was at his level, and pulled a tissue from the box on the table beside them.

"I know you do. I miss her too." She wiped the tears from his face as he sniffled.

"You do?"

"Yes, every day. Your mommy was my best friend."

"Is she gonna come back?"

C.C. paled. At five years old, the concept of death had been hard for Brighton to understand. Niles had told her that he had answered this question repeatedly, and that it seemed the boy could just not let himself believe that his mother was not going to return. C.C. didn't answer him right away.

"Would you like to sit with me for a minute?" Brighton nodded as C.C. stood, and reached for her hand when she was back to her full height. The child's need for affection did not go unnoticed by her. She silently cursed at Maxwell for avoiding the children as much as he had. C.C. sat on the coffee table and smiled sadly at how tiny Brighton looked by himself on the huge sofa. She searched hard for the right words. She didn't know how to talk to children about much of anything, let alone the death of a parent.

"She can't come back. But I know she would want to more than anything. She loved you so, so much." Brighton seemed to perk up when he heard this.

"Really?"

"Yes. She talked about you all the time. She was very proud of you." Brighton beamed.

"She was?"

"Mmhmm. She would tell me all about how smart you are, and how funny. And how you liked to dance into a room and dance out just to make her laugh." Brighton giggled, remembering how much his mom would laugh at him chicken dancing.

"What do you miss about mommy?" Brighton asked, catching C.C. off guard. She thought over the fifteen years of their friendship. Tears burned her eyes and she gave Brighton a watery smile.

"Your mommy was my best friend. She knew all my secrets, and I knew all of hers. She told me she was going to have you before she even told your daddy." C.C. swiped at her eyes, trying to hide her tears. "She was always nice to me. Other kids at school were mean to me, but your mommy made them say sorry." She left out the part where Sara had acted very out of her class and grabbed a boy by the collar and pushed him against a wall, forcing him to apologize for calling C.C. a dog. Maybe she would tell Brighton the whole story someday, but it just wasn't the time. "She was like my sister. I loved her."

Brighton sat, thinking all of that over.

"Daddy doesn't talk about her." C.C. mentally cursed Maxwell again, feeling the sudden urge to flick him upside the head.

"It hurts him to see you be sad," she offered. "I think he wants to try and make everything feel the way it used to. Do you remember when your sister lost her tooth?" Brighton nodded. "When I lost my first tooth, I would always feel the empty space with my tongue. It's kind of like that. Your daddy doesn't want you to feel the empty space and be sad."

"But we _are_ sad."

C.C. did something very out of character then. She moved to sit beside Brighton and pulled him into a tight hug.

"I know you are. It's okay to be sad. You might be for a very long time. But someday, the empty space won't feel so empty."

*

_This idea just sort of came to me. I think C.C. has always had a soft side that we as viewers never got to see, because the main characters, particularly the kids, never talked about seeing it. And I think it's impossible to be a monster when you find a crying little boy._


End file.
